


Two Nights at the Hanged Man

by elfgirl931



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1811872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfgirl931/pseuds/elfgirl931
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two different nights at the Hanged Man. Both feature Anders trying to resist Hawke's charms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Card Night

_Isabela has a way of getting under your skin,_ Anders groused internally. _I could refuse to come to her little card nights until I’m blue in the face, and yet somehow, here I am._ He glared at her over the rim of his cup, and just happened to catch her eye across Varric’s table.

      “Something you need, love?” she asked innocently. “More ale? Nibbles? A lapful of lady?”

      “Well, as there are no ladies at this table, I think my lap will have to remain empty for the time being,” he retorted, swirling the ale around in his cup.

     “Ooh, someone’s a bit touchy this evening,” Isabela crowed, leaning forward across the table. “What’s wrong, love, ale not good enough for you? You’ve barely touched yours all night!”

      Anders rolled his eyes. “You know Justice doesn’t let me get drunk.”

      “More’s the pity. Everyone else is having fun and you’re sitting there looking like a cat caught in the rain.” Isabela’s eyes narrowed and her lips arranged themselves in a mischievous smile. “Could it be because you didn’t get to sit next to our favorite Champion?”

      “I’m not going to dignify that with a response, Bela,” he answered in a warning tone.  _If she keeps needling me, I’m going to leave._

      Unfortunately _,_ Isabela chose that moment to leave off needling and move on to full on stabbing him in the back. “Oy! Hawke, come down here! Anders is feeling lonely!”

      Of course everyone at that end of the table looked up from their cards, including Hawke. Anders already wanted to sink into the floor, but when she stood up, wobbling slightly on her feet and laughing, he knew things were about to get very bad. He turned his head to glare at Isabela, but she was already on his side of the table, cajoling Merrill to move over one seat for Hawke ( _Oooh, what’s happening? Is this a new game?_ )

     Before he could get up and yank Isabela aside, Hawke had plunked herself into the seat beside him. Up close, Anders could see that she was much more drunk than he had initially thought. Her green eyes had a glassy sheen to them, and her normally smoothed hair was mussed at the back. She leaned over the arm of the chair as far as she could, placing one hand on his feathered pauldon.

      “Hi, Anders,” she said with a breathy laugh, followed by a hiccup. “Isabela said it was a good idea for me to sit here.”

      _Void take you, Isabela_ , Anders thought darkly. Whatever he had been about to say to Hawke, though, dried up on his tongue when she scooted her chair closer to him and began petting her other hand across his chest, just barely tickling the skin of his neck.

      “You’re kind of like a cat, all soft over here,” she slurred quietly. “I like it.” She had scooted her chair just close enough to lay her head on his shoulder. “I like you,” she whispered with her eyes closed.

      Anders glanced around surreptitiously. Fenris, Aveline, and Varric seemed safely absorbed in their card game at the other end of the table, and Isabela had her back pointedly turned to them, keeping Merrill entertained with some wild tale. He looked back at Hawke, who was drooling a bit on his jacket now, and decided it might be safe to take her hand where it rested on his chest. He was about to do something even more mad and ill-considered, like kiss the top of her head, but he could feel the beginnings of a headache brought on by Justice’s disapproval. Not only that, he saw Varric watching them over his cards, looking like a cat that was about to swallow a particularly fat canary. 

      With a pang of regret, Anders dislodged Hawke as gently as he could, propping her head on the table before standing up. “I’ve got to call it a night, everyone,” he said in as neutral of a voice as he could manage. He waved off the various goodbyes and made it as far as the suite door before Isabela’s voice stopped him.

      “Oh, Anders!” she called, sweet as sugar. “I think Hawke could use some help home. Since you’re leaving, maybe you could see her back to the estate.” When he spun to glare daggers at her, she blinked innocently at him and gestured at Hawke with her mug. “Go on, then.”

      Hawke only hiccuped when Anders slung her arm around his shoulders, but when he started to walk her out of the room, she looked up and smiled at him with _that_ smile, the one she only used on him these days. At that point, he didn’t know whether to thank Isabela or continue cursing her to the Void.


	2. Strip Diamondback

_Andraste’s flaming underpants, why am I here **again**?_ Anders thought in irritation. _Considering how last time went…_ He tried to school his features into a neutral expression as he remembered the way Hawke clung to him on the way back to her estate, and thanked him for walking her home by planting a very sloppy kiss on his cheek. It was just his luck that she had to be an affectionate drunk.

      Judging by Isabela’s leer across the table, he hadn’t succeeded in keeping his expression indifferent. “What a pretty blush, Anders. One _wonders_ what could have put it there.” She shot a significant look at Hawke, who sat two places down laughing into her cup at something Merrill had said.

      Anders chose to keep his mouth shut, remembering how his retorts had stirred the pirate up at the last card night. He tapped the rim of his tankard in irritation, wondering again how he could have let himself come here. It was one thing to help Hawke with her various errands around Kirkwall, and quite another to be here in this kind of setting with her. It tempted his self-restraint to see her flushed and laughing, firelight making her hair and eyes shine. And her incessant flirting didn’t help. One of these days he’d throw caution and duty to the winds and kiss her until -

      “I’m thinking we need a new game here, ladies and gents,” Varric called out suddenly from the head of the table, interrupting Anders’ train of thought. “The party’s too broken up! We’ve only got the three of us down here playing Wicked Grace and the rest of you are left in the cold.” He scanned the table with his hands steepled, contemplating the group before him. “What do you say we all play Diamondback? I’ve got an extra pack of cards.”

      “Your suite, your rules,” Aveline answered matter-of-factly, already gathering up the cards scattered across the table. She hiccupped once, the only indication that she’d had any alcohol. “None of you heard that,” she said with a glare to the room at large.

       “Not at all, Guard Captain,” Varric intoned solemnly. “Not a thing,” he added with a wink at Hawke when Aveline hiccupped again.

      “I’ve got an even better idea,” Isabela piped up, fixing a smirk on Anders before turning back to Varric. “ _Strip_ Diamondback.”

      “Absolutely not,” Anders and Aveline shot back in unison, albeit for very different reasons.

      “All right, big girl,” Isabela drawled, ignoring Anders. “I understand if you’re scared….”

      “I am **not** scared. In fact…” _hiccup_ “I look damn good naked.”

      “Well then it’s settled. If you lose the round you must discard one article of clothing. Otherwise the rules are normal. We won’t play for money this time ‘round.” Isabela sat back and began dealing out the cards that she’d whisked out of Aveline’s hands, looking mightily pleased with herself.

       Anders cursed under his breath, ignoring the headache that began to grip his temples. Justice rumbled angrily in the back of his mind, flashes of **_tawdry entertainment_** and **_waste of time_** floating irritably through his consciousness. He was stuck; he’d never live down leaving if Aveline the Uptight was willing to stay and play. He stole a glance over at Hawke - her cheeks were even more flushed, and she was looking around with a smug smile, but he noticed that her grip on her cards was white knuckled.

     Not surprisingly, Merrill lost the first round, even with Isabela doing the best to covertly help her. “So, I just have to take off my clothes?” she asked in confusion.

     “No Daisy, just one thing. Like your scarf,” Varric prompted helpfully. The scarf went on the table  (“I don’t see the point of this,” Merrill sighed as she proceed to lose her belt and surcoat in the next two rounds), followed by Aveline’s boots, Fenris’s gauntlets and spiked pauldrons, and Hawke’s boots and stockings.

      For once, Anders was grateful that he wasn’t able to get drunk. He’d played plenty of cards in his wilder days, but he didn’t trust his abilities sober against Varric and Isabela, much less if he were as drunk as the rest of the table. The pile of clothing grew as the rounds proceeded, and he found it harder and harder to stop glancing at the foot of the table where Hawke sat. She’d lost her pants, vest, and armbands, and was currently glaring at her cards with some very red cheeks.

      She was better off than poor Merrill and Aveline, though, who both sat in nothing but their smalls. Isabela and Varric were still fully clothed, the sods. Anders himself had only lost his coat, boots, and belt. The round concluded, and Isabela chuckled. “You lose again, big girl. Show me more of those freckles.”

       “Shut up, slattern,” roared Aveline. The effect was rather spoiled by a fit of the hiccups.

      “All right, Rivaini, I think that should be enough. I think Aveline’s had a few too many this evening.” Varric folded up his cards and stood. “It’s been a pleasure, ladies and gents, but I’d prefer that my suite not be destroyed by an angry guard captain.”

     “I have **not** had too much to drink,” Aveline glowered as she pulled on her clothes.

      “Aveline, pants don’t go over your head,” Hawke laughed. She got up to help, and Anders had to bite his tongue and grip the arms of his chair. She still wasn’t wearing her pants.

      “Caught you looking,” a voice whispered in his ear. Anders whipped his head around to glare at Isabela, who had perched on the table beside him. “Even I have to admit her bum looks adorable in those blue smalls…”

      “Not another word, Bela,” Anders gritted out. He made the quickest exit that he could, this time avoiding having to walk Hawke home. He was certainly going to have trouble sleeping tonight, with the image of her long legs seared onto his brain. Justice, as usual, did not approve.


End file.
